


Sideswipe in the Middle

by fuzipenguin



Series: Sideswipe Watches Too Much Porn [6]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Double Penetration, Established Relationship, Multi, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sticky Sex, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 18:15:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1479298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What does it take to shut Sideswipe up during interfacing?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sideswipe in the Middle

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the twins_x_ratch community on livejournal - Week 10 Wrench of Inspiration kink prompt: Double penetration, w/ Sideswipe being the recipient. Also, Sideswipe finally shut up by sheer sensation.   
> Originally posted at livejournal on 4/27/12. And my apologies because I thought this had been posted here a long while back.

                “Are you all right?” Ratchet asks, intakes hitching on every other word as he struggles not to thrust, to _move_.

                “Primus,” Sideswipe rasps out, optic shutters tightly closed. “Please… don’t…”

                Sunstreaker shifts beneath Sideswipe, eliciting a yelp from his brother. “He’s fine,” Sunstreaker says brusquely, his optics glazed with pleasure. Ratchet knows he’s deep in the twin bond, making sure Sideswipe is truly unhurt; Sideswipe has a habit of chasing pleasure too far, willing to follow it into and through pain.

                “It’s good. Good, promise, don’t stop,” Sideswipe says in one loose babble of words. He grinds his pelvis down, making both Ratchet and Sunstreaker moan as Sideswipe’s overstretched valve flutters around their spikes.

                Sunstreaker grabs Sideswipe’s hips and squeezes, digits imprinting the black metal. “Slow down,” he growls.

                “Need it, come on, please,” Sideswipe says, his hands blindly grasping at Ratchet. Ratchet overbalances at the tugs to his frame, his spike slipping deeper another inch. Sideswipe _yowls_ , back arching.

                “Come on, come on, fuck me already,” Sideswipe begs, the humans’ curse word sounding so much more sinful in Sideswipe’s dark, needful tone. He continues to spew forth pleas and demands, each word more filthy than the last until Sunstreaker gives into temptation and snaps his hips up.

                The slick slide of spike against spike breaks Ratchet’s control, and he too begins to move. Soon Ratchet and Sunstreaker create a rhythm between them, the slap of metal against metal ringing out into the room. In contrast to the sound of their frames moving together, Sideswipe’s dirty encouragements quickly taper off into moans and then near silent gasps. A thin line of lubricant drools out of the corner of Sideswipe’s mouth as his head slowly falls back against Sunstreaker’s shoulder.

                “You sure…?” Ratchet asks, disturbed by the silence from his normally talkative lover. His concern grows as he watches Sideswipe’s optics slip back closed, his frame growing frighteningly limp against Sunstreaker’s chassis. Ratchet’s movement slows.

                All three of them jolt as Sunstreaker leans forward, grabbing at Ratchet’s waist and pulling hard. Sideswipe makes a pitiful muffled sound as Ratchet bottoms out.

                “Don’t stop,” Sunstreaker hisses. “Trust me.”

                Just then, Sideswipe’s valve _ripples_ , and Ratchet wouldn’t have been able to stop if Megatron himself walked in and put a gun to the back of his helm. Ratchet surges forward, pounding deep into Sideswipe’s valve, Sunstreaker’s pace increasing to match Ratchet’s.

               All too soon, the pleasure reaches its peak. Sideswipe stiffens, valve clamping down hard on the two spikes penetrating it. He makes a wounded sound deep in his vocalizer before abruptly going limp. Sunstreaker overloads immediately after, burying his faceplates in the side of his brother’s neck. Ratchet pumps a few more times before the increased sensation from Sunstreaker’s slick transfluid pushes Ratchet over the edge with a shout.

               Ratchet collapses across Sideswipe’s chassis and listens to three sets of cooling fans whine with the effort of trying to disperse the heat from their coupling. Beneath Ratchet’s cheek, Sideswipe’s sparkbeat thumps steadily, strong and fast. It is soothing and exhaustion begins creeping in, recharge a seductive temptation.

               He almost succumbs until he realizes that Sideswipe remains still beneath him. Ratchet raises his head to look his lover over, blinking his optics several times at Sideswipe’s sprawled out body.

               “Sides?” Ratchet asks, having to reboot his vocalizer and ask again when the first try yields only static.

               Sideswipe does not respond, his optics staring blindly up at the ceiling. His mouth components are still slack, body only kept from sliding off Sunstreaker’s lap by his brother’s grip.

              “Sunstreaker!” Ratchet exclaims, bolting upright. His depressurized spike slips from Sideswipe’s valve, a rush of fluids flooding out to coat Sideswipe’s thighs. Sunstreaker shifts as well, groaning as he lifts his head.

              “He’s fine,” Sunstreaker grunts, tightening his grip on Sideswipe’s frame.

              “He’s not responding,” Ratchet retorts, automatically switching into medic mode.

              “He’s _fine_ ,” Sunstreaker repeats, batting Ratchet’s hands away as they run over Sideswipe’s plating. Ratchet scowls at Sunstreaker but is relieved to see Sideswipe finally stir. A low shiver passes over the red frame, and Sideswipe’s optics dim before rebooting into a familiar shade of blue.

              Ratchet leans over him, peering down into Sideswipe’s faceplates and watching awareness slowly creep back in. Sideswipe continues to shiver, even as a smile lifts the corners of his lipplates.

              “Sideswipe?” Ratchet asks, almost fearfully. No matter what Sunstreaker says, Ratchet wants Sideswipe’s word that they didn’t break him.

              “Hi, Ratch,” Sideswipe whispers, his optics slowly losing their glazed appearance.

              “How are you feeling?” Ratchet asks, worriedly.

              Sideswipe stretches, a slow sinuous wave that manages to make Ratchet’s spike twitch at the sight.

              “Mmmm,” he says, shifting to accept a kiss on the cheek from Sunstreaker. “That was good. Really _good_. Again?” he asks, giving Ratchet a coy look through half shuttered optics.

              Ratchet looks over Sideswipe’s frame, still shivering with the aftershocks and ruefully shakes his head. “You’re so glitched,” Ratchet says fondly, relief washing over him. “How about you recover from this time before we start the next?”

              Sideswipe abruptly sits up, optics turning dark with intent. Ratchet automatically attempts a step back, but is unable to move as Sunstreaker’s leg rises and hooks over Ratchet’s hip.

              “Not a bad idea,” Sideswipe muses, hand darting between Ratchet’s thighs to fondle his sopping valve. “Who gets to be in the middle in the meantime?”

              Ratchet’s optics widen, and he shudders involuntarily.

 

~ end

               

               


End file.
